


Nor so Wide

by bold_seer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Antagonism, Ficlet, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Marauders Era (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-05 23:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bold_seer/pseuds/bold_seer
Summary: In less than an hour, Severus would know whether he was human.





	Nor so Wide

Lupin’s hands were bleeding. He hadn’t transformed yet, but his knuckles were ragged and raw from being dragged against the bars. In unconscious anxiety, or with wilful purpose, anticipating the moon. Repeatedly, as if he was doing something useful, such as stirring a potion. As if.

Severus regarded him with detachment. Potter had interfered with Black’s plan, his little practical joke, but they were still waiting for whatever punchline the night would throw at them. In less than an hour, Severus would know whether he was human.

“Making a point about animal behaviour?” Lupin showed no sign he’d heard him. There was something uncomfortable about it. Not Lupin’s injuries, which were pathetic. Accidental or intentional, they were a pitiful distraction. It wasn’t the kind of pain you could use. That spurred you on, shaped and twisted you. Hunched pose, wrapped in a grey blanket - tall though Lupin was, he looked like a scrawny child. Tired of brutality before it had begun.

Perhaps it was the horror of uncertainty, bleeding over one of them and reaching the other. Perhaps it was plain horror, somewhere in his gut. That which was to come.

Lupin deserved it. Because he was a Gryffindor. Because he was friends with the enemy. Because he was the enemy, certainly now. Barely a person, no better than a beast.

He deserved nothing. No pity. Hardly a harmless monster, who could infect or kill or mutilate others. Far worse damage than he could ever inflict on himself. Poisonous wolfsbane. A poisoned chalice?

Severus didn’t need to prove any points. He knew violence. Bullies, Slytherin and Gryffindor. Men like his father. The Magic and Muggle capacity for destruction. The Dark Arts: to torture, command and kill. Turning a person inside out.

Here he was, sharing a cell - a cabin - with an animal. Though not the cage.

He’d turned seventeen. If others took the liberty to wager with his life, he could damn well deal with it as he pleased.

Lupin would leave Hogwarts, he’d said. Practically running for sainthood. Running from the consequences, more like.

A real sacrifice would’ve been refusing his letter. Risking no one else’s safety. Or keeping quiet, observant, acquiring nothing but knowledge, the way he knew Lupin could have. If he’d tried. Not making friends. With Potter and Black. Even Lupin, who took to company and kindness as though they were Phoenix tears, rare and valuable, wasn’t that selfless.

So. The cage.

It would hold: a boy, a man. The wolf?

It would hold. To be opened by Dumbledore. No matter how clever Gryffindors thought themselves - Lupin wasn’t the worst in his year, actual or inflated abilities - they were no match.

He’d put his trust in an old man, who hadn’t done enough to deserve it. So had Lupin, whatever he deserved. If Severus felt no ill effects from the moon? It only fed his disgust. Logic had little to do with revulsion.

Then it started, the rearrangement of limbs and ligaments and muscles.

His heart drummed up a beat, but he felt nothing, if not a sliver of pity at the helplessness he saw reflected. Being tossed and turned by a force so much greater than yourself.


End file.
